Page 77 of Fox
Stevie furrows her dark brows. “As in Cambridge, Prescott & Sons?”
I press my lips together and nod. “Yep, he is one of the sons and Ren’s boss.” The girls both groan, and I nod again. “Yeah, it’s an absolute mess.” I look down at my phone when it vibrates and sighs as I see the text.
Ren: I’m sorry. I love you and the girls very much. I just can’t talk about all of this right now. But I need you three to do me a favor.
Ren: Whatever you talk about between yourselves is fine. But if you care about me AT ALL, you won’t mention this at Hel’s.
Me: I’ll stay quiet as long as I feel you’re safe.
I slide the phone to the middle of the table to allow Stevie and Sunday to read it. They both shoot me worried glances, and I let out a long, tired breath. I will stay quiet as long as she’s safe. Too bad I don’t feel like that will be for very long.
Fox scowls at me,and the anger rolling off his giant body is almost too much. “I need to punch something.” He growls, and I give him a nervous smile.
“How about a big hug instead?” I try but only get the same glare.
Atlas slaps the shirtless Fox’s back. “I think it’s a brilliant idea, Red!” He beams as he rips his shirt off. “So do I get to pick who greases me up?” He asks while looking at the people behind me setting up for the photoshoot.
“No,” I snap while giving his solid chest a poke. “Ow,” I mutter, waving my injured digit.
Atlas smirks and makes his pecs bounce. “Like a fucking rock, right?”
Fox smacks him upside the head before glaring back at me. I match his glare and raise him by sticking my tongue out. “You agreed to this.” I smile brightly and stick my tongue out again. Fox snatches it between his finger and thumb while moving closer to me.
“Your hand was on my dick. I would have agreed to anything at the time.” He grumbles in my ear so Atlas doesn’t hear, and I can’t help the laugh trying to come out. Smacking his hand off my tongue, I move away. It’s true; I had asked him if he would be willing to do a photo shoot to introduce the guys and everything on social media while preparing to suck him off. He was very eager to say yes.
“Who is greasing me up?” Atlas whines, and I roll my eyes.
“Because you won’t shut up, Gale is.” I snap and point to the seventy-something-year-old woman struggling to open a jar of something.
Atlas huffs. “Jokes on you, I wanted it to be Gale.” I give him a look that tells him to shut up before walking over to check on Ash and Derek. I see Ash flirting with the photographer figures. Ash is the smallest of the four men, which doesn’t mean much,considering he is still over six feet and has a toned swimmer’s build. He and Atlas are the only two without neck tattoos. Ash’s Traditional Japanese tattoo work covers nearly every inch of him. Beautiful colors and scenes of warriors, dragons, and koi fish decorate his arms, back, and chest.
“Ash,” I say after staring too long. It’s hard not to. The work done on these guys is some of the best work you will see. Which is why I thought this photoshoot for social media and the website would do well. Not to mention they are all hot as fuck. “You’re up first.” I smile and then turn around. “Derek, you’re—holy shit.”
I realize now that I’ve never seen Derek shirtless. He might be more built than even Atlas. I look over his tight abs and rock-hard chest. Cocking my head to one side, I stare at his artwork. It’s all black and gray, and everything is dying. Wilting flowers, realistic skulls, rotting fruit, a broken hourglass. His tattoos are heavy and dark; looking at them almost makes me sad.
“You know,” Fox’s low growl behind me sends shivers down my spine. “I don’t share. And I don’t like it when my girl stares at other men.” I roll my eyes and turn to him.
“I wasn’t staring at other men. I’ve never seen Derek’s tattoos. They’re really sad.”
He smirks and shakes his head. “Baby doll, that’s just the type of art he puts on his body. Like Ash is strictly Traditional Japanese, and your dad was ninety-nine percent Traditional American. At and I are the only two in the shop who collect different tattoo styles.”
“Well,” I look up at him and cock my brow. “What is Derek’s called? Because rotting fruit is not one of the traditional styles.”
“It’s Memento Mori,” Derek’s gruff voice says from his spot at his station. Crap, had he heard everything? His dark eyes meet mine, and I give him an apologetic look.
“They’re really pretty,” I say and then hide my face as all four men start laughing. What a dumb thing to say.
“Alright!” I grumble after a minute. “Enough giving me shit. Let’s get you boys greased up and flexing.”
THIRTY-ONE
fox
“Fox!” Panic fills me when I hear Janie’s scream from across the shop. I stand to run to the front showroom, but my tiny redhead runs into the work area before I get there. She runs to me and jumps, her legs and arms wrapping around my body. I wrap my hands around her as I steady myself.
“I did it! I did it!” She repeatedly squeals, completely unable to stop wiggling from excitement. I don't know what she’s talking about, but I can’t stop smiling. The last few weeks she and I have spent together as a new couple have been the best weeks of my life. And moments we get to share like this matter to me more than I thought they would.
“What did you do, baby doll?” I chuckle as I set her down. Her blue eyes sparkle, and her dimples are front and center, a rarity I treasure each time I’m lucky enough to see them.
